Episode 3

When I was fifteen, I witnessed a terrible scene. As always, we followed my routine: Raphael, my older brother, always dropped me off at school and then tried to find odd jobs to work and help our parents. My father was always drunk and used drugs, which explained his aggressive behavior towards my mother. Many times, when he got irritated by something I did, the ones who suffered the consequences were my mother and Raphael, who wouldn't let him hit me. All the money he got, he spent on drinks and drugs, even selling our few household belongings to pay debts at the drug den.

Today was one of those days when he arrived in the morning, very drunk and high, saying strange things like "They're coming." We ignored him and headed to school, walking. Sometimes, I would run ahead of my brother. When I arrived, I said goodbye to him, and he went off to where he was going to do a small job. Class was boring as usual, and when the bell rang, I ran out to catch the bus back home. I just didn't expect that damned afternoon would change my life. As soon as I got off the bus, I heard an anguished scream and my mother's desperate cries, repeating the same sentence: "Not her, you can kill me, but no one will touch her, not either of them." My breathing became ragged, my chest hurt, a sob escaped my lips, my eyes burned, and tears rolled down my face. My curiosity got the better of me and I looked through the corner of the window. My father was being beaten, my mother was tied to a chair, and two men were beating my father even more. Finally, I heard a gunshot and closed my eyes. My mother's screams were of despair. I was screaming, but no one heard me because her screams were louder. We lived far from the main activity, making it hard to call for help. My mother was being brutally abused; the scene was horrific, her screams were of fear and despair. Her eyes met mine at the window, and she closed her eyes. I sat down and hugged my own legs. I heard the sound of cars leaving and hurried into the house. The scene was like something out of a horror movie. My father's body lay in his own pool of blood; my mother was all bruised, with deep cuts on her arms and a knife stuck in her chest. I hugged her body and screamed:

"Mommy... You can't leave me" I screamed, clinging to her cold body, her pale lips. "Come back, Mommy, stay with me" Tears rolled down my face, my hands stained with blood. I heard nothing and lost consciousness as Raphael's screams echoed in the room.

I don't know how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes, everything was spinning around me. I was in a room. Raphael was by my side, and his face couldn't hide his sadness. He approached me.

"They're gone" he said, his voice choked with emotion.

"I saw everything and couldn't do anything" I said, hugging him.

"Don't blame yourself. They left a note. Our father owed a large amount for drugs."

"Why did Daddy choose this life?"

Raphael stayed with me until I calmed down. The doctor discharged me, and later that afternoon, we went to our parents' funeral. The pain and fear terrified me. For a moment, everything came back to my mind: the suffering look, the screams; my legs gave way, and I fell to my knees before the freshly covered grave. I screamed and cried. My soul was tearing apart with an overwhelming pain. My brother picked me up in his arms, and we got into the taxi. He decided we would move, and I didn't question it for a moment. He rented a house closer to the city center, where we went to live.

The first months of mourning were overwhelming. I was just surviving. Panic accompanied me. The images of my mother being brutally abused and bloodied wouldn't let me sleep. The memories terrified me, and I fought against the fear alone. When I dozed off, the damned scene would return to my mind, making it hard even to breathe.